


All In A Day's Work

by remarkable1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Magic, Aurors, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Danger, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Flirting, M/M, Making Out, Marvel Universe, Minor Violence, Quidditch, Spies & Secret Agents, Undercover Missions, Wands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25785829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remarkable1/pseuds/remarkable1
Summary: A fake relationship to draw out a dark wizard has the tables turned when it turns into something more promising.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Viktor Krum
Kudos: 10
Collections: Marvelously Magical Bingo 2020, Marvelously Magical Drabbles





	All In A Day's Work

This fic was written for Facebook's Marvelously Magical's Roll-a-Drabble for June 2020, and for my N3 Bingo Square Free Choice for the same group.

The first time he met the Bulgarian, Clint wasn’t impressed. Big arms, seemingly little intelligence, although Clint knew better than to judge a book by its cover, Viktor came across as more of a meathead than an Agent. The world of magic and brooms was still pretty new to Clint, so he _was_ impressed by Viktor’s wicked flying skills and talent at that Quidditch sport they were so fond of. Very cool.

Then Fury had put them on assignment together, and his opinion changed.

Clint was also working with Natasha and Granger, who were paired up elsewhere. They were supposedly incognito so they couldn’t ‘out’ one another in case of capture.

The case was simple; the wizarding world was outing bigots of all types. The captain of the opposing Quidditch team was notorious for off-the-record, sneaky attacks on those he was prejudice against. He’d recently been accused of almost killing a rival coach. Still, there was no proof, as the other man’s memory had been wiped, and the sole witness threatened into submission no matter what they tried to get him to testify.

Clint was posed as Victor’s Muggle boyfriend, the ultimate betrayal of a pureblood – dating a Muggle male, no magic, wearing all of the opposing teams’ wizarding colors, with full knowledge of the wizarding world, at a wizarding event. Clint loved it. Bring on the danger. The only thing missing was his bow. His fingers itched mightily to hold something, anything, in his hands to fidget with be it arrow or drumstick.

“Goad him, but do not antagonize him,” Viktor warned, floating just above Clint in the private box he’d secured just below the rivals.

The coach had a clear view – and shot – of his partner, and Viktor worried the protection spells on Clint wouldn’t be strong enough. The other coach that had been attacked was also a well-known Defense champion, and Chapman, the wizard under surveillance, had still almost managed to kill the former coach, single-handedly.

“What’s the difference? Guy’s a douche,” Clint replied flippantly. Although he knew the difference was, indeed, nothing to laugh about.

Viktor flew in very, very close, surprising Clint as he was pulled forward in a big fist by the front of the ridiculous robes he was forced to wear. The Bulgarians’ nose came an inch from his own, and Clint swallowed hard at the steely, worried gaze aimed right into his soul.

“I mean it. Chapman is not to be trifled vith. He is suspected of foul play in at least six murders and fourteen assaults, all on Muggles and Muggle-born vitches and vizards. Merlin only knows vhat he has done that has gone unnoticed.”

“I’ll be careful,” Clint promised, his enthusiasm waning slightly, color paling. From what he understood, Viktor was not a man that backed down too much. The fact that the considerable Quidditch player was concerned underscored the danger he was in.

“Thank you. This is not a game. You do not have arrows. You do not have magic or a vand. You have your wits. Use them. I will vatch for you. Hermione and Natasha are vithin line of sight also, and no less than six vands are trained on Chapman. That does not mean he vill not try to kill you if you are not fully aware of your surroundings.”

“I understand.”

Now came the part Clint was dreading – or was it anticipating? The Coup de Grace: Chapman detested homosexuals, and worst of all, flagrant displays of public affection. Viktor leaned in and gave Clint a very open, passionate, scorching demonstration of a kiss, tongue and all.

It flashed on the big screen, and the crowd went wild.

The announcer made a jest, and a few cat-calls sounded as Viktor pulled away, studying Clint one last time.

“Our relationship may not be real, but my concern for you is. Be well, Agent Barton. Stay alive.”

“You too,” the undercover archer huffed out hoarsely, clearing his throat.

As Viktor flew off, Clint refrained from wiping the beads of sweat dotting his brow in the fresh, humid night air. 

That was *some* kiss. He wouldn’t mind tapping _that,_ he admitted privately.

Abandoning his original orders, he took Viktor’s warning to heart. Surely, what SHIELD had planned previously for him WOULD get him killed. He needed to wing it.

\--

The game was already halfway over. Clint knew better than to let his guard down. Chapman was in the periphery of his vision at all times. So far, the wizard had remained stoic, sour even, politely clapping at the appropriate times or announcements and drawling something into the ear of his arm-candy companion, who giggled obnoxiously at everything the man said.

Not once, that Clint could tell, had the man even glanced his way. What a bust. He’d been on quite a few missions that had turned out to be anti-climatic, and this was undoubtedly one of the more fun ventures he’d been assigned.

He’d merely been itching for a little bit of action – any kind. Widow called it his Death Wish. Clint called it his adrenaline junkie addiction.

Whatever it was, Clint mentally started planning for some rough and tumble training, or maybe some skydiving practice when this was all over. If he didn’t scratch the itch under his skin, he’d get irritable and crabby. Picking fights with his teammates never boded well.

A sudden urge to urinate hit him, and Clint cursed silently. Sometimes, he got so caught up in what he was doing like a little kid that he forgot about the essential need until he was ready to burst.

“Damnit. I gotta wait ‘til the break,” he muttered, really wanting to dance around and hold his junk to keep from pissing himself. Unable to contain it, he slowly backed out of the box so as not to draw any attention to his movements. When in the stands and on the stairs, he rushed down them to the ground floor. Fuck if he wouldn’t get a workout in today going up and down these rickety bastards!

Thankfully, there wasn’t a line, so he pushed into the wizard’s version of a port-a-potty, cleaned up, and rushed back out. He tripped over his stupid robes on his way up the stairs, banging his nose on a step. Stars burst before his eyes, and his nose hurt like a sonofabitch. “Damn. Hobe I didn’t brae it,” he moaned, clutching it.

Scrambling up, he was half-blinded by the swelling starting to already form next to one eye. “Nat’s gonna kill be,” he said, almost up to the top.

Clint overshot his box by one level, only realizing it when he stumbled into the rivals’ box. Recognizing his mistake after he’d already burst into the target’s private space, he apologized profusely, trying to back out, only to have Chapman’s beady eyes train themselves on his form. “Shit.”

Chapman whipped out his wand, slamming the door shut behind Clint and barring it. Clint stumbled into it, banging stupidly on the door, panic setting in. _I’m going to fuckin’ die. Nat’s gonna kill me,_ he thought, only realizing the moronic train of thought after it had gone through his mind. However, he was pretty sure she _would_ kill him after he was already dead.

“I see my little spell was successful—such a waste. You are a curious specimen. Still, how very boring. I thought you’d be more of a challenge.”

Clint shook his head dumbly, realizing belatedly a strange foggy haze had settled over it. Why wasn’t he fighting back? His arms hung limply at his sides, and the emergency port key he had on him had been quickly removed by the bigoted asshole smirking down at him.

“Oh, just a little confusion spell. Very elementary, really. Your hot-headed boyfriend won’t ever find you where I’m taking you. I may even have a little fun with you before I dispatch you to my weredogs.”

“Chappy! You’re missing the game!” came the whine from behind the wizard, entirely blocking Clint's view, whose head had been yanked back in Chapman’s fist. Clint could feel several rings digging into his skull, where the man had turned them palm-inward. One pricked his scalp, and what he dimly recognized as a poison burned into his bloodstream. A blood-curdling scream caught in his throat, nothing coming out.

“Silencing spell,” Chapman murmured, his lips grazing Clint’s ear.

Clint weakly tried to jerk away, but the poison made him sleepy and sick to his stomach. The world faded as the last thing he heard was Chapman snarling at the annoying woman behind him before everything darkened.

\--

When he came to, Clint found himself bound and gagged in the middle of a tense standoff. The asshole that had abducted him had a wand not only at his throat but jabbing uncomfortably against his carotid artery. Squirming in anger, he moaned as pain ballooned through his head, forcing him to slam his eyes shut.

“If you want your Agent back alive, I strongly advise you to heed my directives. I shall not repeat myself,” the smarmy asshole smoothed at the Aurors and Agents at the opposite end of the banquet hall he was in.

Where the fuck was he? Was this the fuckers house?

“Clint!” Nat shouted, coming in through a side door, a wand at her throat, and three more wizards in sketchy looking attire behind the one man-handling her.

Now Clint knew for sure something was up. Nat would never allow herself to get captured by these bastards. Would she? He tried to swallow hard, but the spit in his mouth had dried up. Maybe – maybe they really had underestimated these guys. Worse than Hydra, it seemed. At least Hydra didn’t magic their way around like that Dr. Strange fellow.

Fear wasn’t something he often felt, but with Nat in their clutches and the good guys’ attention divided between him and the newly appeared captive, he didn’t feel like their odds were good.

Chapman brandished a gloved hand around at the balconies just off the top of the room. “If you care to feast your eyes above, you will see I have you completely at my mercy. You should have left while you had the chance.”

Sixteen or so wands trained on the group had them muttering amongst themselves. It was what, twenty to ten now? Shit. They were screwed.

Clint mentally said goodbye, even as he attempted to swerve his dangling body to take out the Chapman fucker.

As his torso swung around in a fantastic circus arc, which Clint knew was going to cost him a world of pain and pulled muscles, later on, the room erupted into chaos.

A terrible slicing hex ripped its way down one thigh, and Clint shouted hoarsely, the best he could do with a parched throat. In the past he’d been cut, burned, beaten, you name it, but being sliced into by magic was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Man, was it a sonofabitch. Annoyed as soon as he let loose, he tried to swing his body around again to find the maniac gripping him around the waist, further incapacitating him and using him as a shield between him and the others firing at him.

Helpless, Clint internally snarled, then realized something strange amidst all the chaos; the agony in his thigh was starting to abate. Startled, he wildly cast his eyes about the best he was able, the swollen one impeding his vision significantly, realizing no one in the vicinity except his captor could be the one healing him. What the ever-loving fuck was going on?

Blood loss was still copious, and memories and time blurred for the archer as he sank into unconsciousness once more.

\--

Not knowing how much time had passed, he woke defensively, finding himself restrained to a soft bed and a few familiar faces around him, plus a few new and strange ones. He could easily distinguish ‘his’ people from the wizarding ones.

His muscles bunched as he strained, and Nat noticed his sudden movement, rushing to press down on his shoulders. “Shh. You’re okay. You’re only restrained because I knew you’d react this way when you woke up. I didn’t want you hurting yourself or someone else.”

“Fuck, Nat. Give me a little credit, will ya?” he barked, coughing with a dry throat.

Quickly, his partner untied him, and he sat up, wincing at the aches bouncing through his system. “Fuck,” he groused again.

Victor appeared from somewhere, shoving his way through the small gathering and handed him a fancy looking goblet with smoke coming out of the top.

“What’s this? The daily special?” Clint joked.

Victor solemnly sat next to him, urging him to drink it. With hesitation, Clint finally did as bid, finding it a bit fruity and minty at the same time, going down smooth and a bit oily, but not the worst thing he’d ever imbibed. 

Immediately strength and vitality flooded back into his system.

“Wow. What was in that? I could use a few dozen of those to take back home with me.”

“It is a controlled potion. I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” a lady in what looked like a strange nurse costume spoke up, shooing a few people from the room. Nat, Victor, Granger, and the nurse stayed behind.

“Okay. Well, thanks anyway. I think I can go now. Whatever that was fixed me right up.”

“You’re not going anywhere until we get your statement,” Granger piped up, a funny looking book floating at her side with an old-fashioned quill writing by itself inside of it. It paused when she stopped speaking as if waiting expectantly.

“Uh, okay. Everything’s kinda hazy right now.”

Nat pulled the other two women aside and pressed them into a little huddle, gesturing back to him and arguing in low voices. With a huff, Granger finally left with a flung, “I’ll come back tomorrow. Please be ready. I have a very tight schedule.”

The nurse waved her wand over him a few more times, and he squinted at the glowing numbers and sigils dancing around his head. “You’re stable. However, it’s the protocol you remain overnight for observation. Your team leader has already been notified.”

“Cool. I can live with that.”

If he was going to be pampered with more of that good shit Viktor had given him, he didn’t mind resting up a bit.

The nurse left the room, and Nat sat on the opposite side to him as Victor. Brushing a non-existent piece of lint from his clothing, she gave him a small, private grin. “Don’t you want to know what happened?”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Well, I can kinda guess. We beat the bad guys, right?”

“In a nutshell,” she jibed, poking at him in a particularly bruised area.

“Ow.”

Nat turned her head, placing her fingers on an earpiece and indicating to give her a moment with her other hand. 

When she turned back to him, she shot him a regretful glance and leaned in for a quick peck on his cheek. “I’ll try to come back tonight, but no guarantees. I’ve been called out again.”

“So soon?”

“There are more of the dark vizards to catch,” Victor explained.

“I suppose you gotta go too?” Clint asked glumly. He’d been hoping one of his pals would stay and keep him company. No radio, no television, no internet – shit, this was gonna suck. He’d already slept and was wide awake. 

What was he supposed to do, read? Like, a real book? He eyeballed the dubious stack of cobwebbed, leather and brass bound antiques piled in a corner. Clint highly doubted he’d find anything of interest to him in _those._

“No. I haf volunteered to stay vith you.”

Noticeably cheered, Nat chucked him again on the sore spot. “Suck it up, buttercup. I’m sure you two will find something to do.”

“Hey, Nat?”

“Yeah?” She turned back when she was at the door.

Swallowing hard, he gruffed out, “Come back in one piece, okay?”

She softened her gaze and nodded. “Yeah. I will. Promise.”

“Pinky swear?”

She just shook her head, and by the way her shoulders moved, he could tell she was laughing all the way out the door.

Turning back to Victor, he regarded the handsome young wizard. “What I want to know is why that head honcho dude healed me. What fuckin’ game was he playing? Torture the victim?”

“That was not the man ve vere really after,” Victor explained, sending Clint into a double-take.

“Okay. Back up a sec. What?”

“It vas a decoy. A fake. You know, someone posed as him to lure in others.”

“So what the fuck was I there for?”

“You vere a diversion,” Victor deadpanned.

Clint frowned. “That is _so_ not cool. Like, I knew I was a target, but I thought I was a real target. I’m putting in a complaint. I don’t mind being put in just about any position but I do like being notified ahead of time what, exactly, it is. It’s dangerous not to know. How am I supposed to defend myself if I don’t have all of the mission info?”

“It could not be helped,” Victor told him. “Some of these men are just as dangerous as their leader. Ve caught their leader several days before murdering a rival in cold blood. This vas a last-minute operation to draw out his inner circle. They did not know of his capture, so vone of our people Polyjuiced into him and played the very part vell. That is vhy you were healed.”

“Chapman wasn’t Chapman?”

“No.”

“Then why-”

“Because some of them can read minds. It is called Legilimency. If any of them had interrogated you, it vould have been disastrous had you known of the entire plan, and they vould have gone underground to regroup. It vould take us months to round them all up again.”

Clint shuddered at the chill crawling up his back. He’d already had Loki inside his head. He was definitely grateful now he’d been spared more digging. Another thought popped into his head, and he wasn’t sure if it was a real memory or a dream.

“Uh. The guy that got me had some rings or something on his hand. They dug into my skull, I think. I remember something sharp going into my bloodstream. Poison?”

“Sleeping draught disguised as poison. You are very perceptive.”

“Alright. Well, thanks? I guess?”

Resting again, he suddenly felt incredibly weary. The whole thing was a confusing mess. He closed his eyes.

“You’re velcome,” came the whisper, and Clint’s eyes shot open, the voice very close to him.

Victor was millimeters from his lips, his eyes searching Clint’s, asking for – wow, really? Clint thought the attraction had been part of the set-up, but it looked like he’d miscalculated.

“Ve are alone. Vat vould you like to do?”

The wizard certainly wasn’t shy. “Shit. Um, okay. Let me get this straight. Are you – um – like coming on to me?”

“If you vish it, yes.”

Did Clint wish it? For a fraction of a second, he considered the ramifications. It had been ages since he’d fooled around with a man. The sudden frisson of arousal in his groin answered the question for him.

“Uh, yeah. If you’re willing to do the work.”

“I am.”

Victor’s lips connected with Clint’s. For a long moment, they stayed that way, just sharing a chaste touching and light movement before pulling apart, panting.

“Good, because I don’t think I’m up to reciprocating much until I get a good, hot meal, a bath, and some sleep.”

“I have some time off coming up. If you vould like to continue … this,” Victor indicated, still very close, “after today, I vill be more than villing to travel to you to explore it more thoroughly. You intrigue me.”

“You’re a pretty interesting guy yourself.”

The sexual tension built until Clint couldn’t stand it any longer.

“If you don’t kiss me I’m gonna –”

No more needed to be said.

Victor was careful and thorough, showing Clint the exciting ways a wizard could pleasure a partner, a few of which were very enlightening.

It wasn’t a conventional start to a friendship or a possible relationship. Still, it definitely had potential, and Clint was excited to find out where it would lead.

After Clint had fallen asleep later on, Victor kissed his forehead gently. “Dream vell. I vill take care of you.”


End file.
